


be the optimist

by FunAndWhimsy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aromantic Hubert von Vestra, Black Eagles Sylvain Jose Gautier, Character Death, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, First Crush, First Love, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23355853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunAndWhimsy/pseuds/FunAndWhimsy
Summary: Bernadetta is never going to fall in love; she's going to marry a noble somewhere, and her father says it won't be anyone her age because none of the boys her age want her. When he's ignoring her he doesn't talk about it at all, and when he's cruel he tells her it's alright if she never shapes up because men get desperate when their first wives don't give them crested children and they're less picky about their second wives.
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra, Bernadetta von Varley/Jeritza von Hrym, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Bernadetta von Varley, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	be the optimist

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for character death & endgame pairing in the endnotes for those of you who'd like them.

Bernadetta's father never seems to know how much attention he wants to pay her; he'll torment her every hour of the day for weeks on end and then forget she exists for weeks afterwards. It's almost worse that way than if he'd just hound her all the time, because a little part of her still thinks every time he gives up on her it's going to be for good, and then she makes mistakes.

Yuri is a mistake. She knows he is, she's not stupid, it's just that for a long time he feels worth it. Yuri has pretty hair and soft eyes and a smile that makes Bernadetta's cheeks go pink for reasons she doesn't entirely understand, and as long as Yuri gets his work done he can do whatever he wants without worrying about being a proper noble or a good wife. When the gardener isn't watching Yuri will hand his gloves and tools to Bernadetta and let her prune the roses, lay down fertilizer or mulch, nestle bulbs into perfect little holes in the soil, because Bernadetta loves to make things and life, even just plant life, is wonderful to be able to make. He lies in the grass and tells her stories and she doesn't know if she believes any of them - her pretty Yuri in a street gang, thieving and lying and hurting people? - but they're always good. Yuri helps her clean the dirt from her face and under her fingernails after she's finished with his chores, and Bernadetta falls asleep with her face turned to the window so she can see the lights go out in the gardeners' shack, thinking of how rough his fingers are against her cheek even through a damp cloth.

Bernadetta is never going to fall in love; she's going to marry a noble somewhere, and her father says it won't be anyone her age because none of the boys her age want her. When he's ignoring her he doesn't talk about it at all, and when he's cruel he tells her it's alright if she never shapes up because men get desperate when their first wives don't give them crested children and they're less picky about their second wives. She'll do alright either way, he'll tell her while he tightens her ropes, but it would be better for everyone if she could just learn to be good. But if she did get to fall in love, she thinks it'd be nice if it were with Yuri. Maybe he'd bring her back to his street gang and they'd all scoff at him for going soft and falling in love until he made them see whatever it is he sees that makes him want to be her friend. Maybe he's a long-lost prince from a faraway place and Bernadetta will get to live the life of riches and luxury her father thinks she isn't ever going to be good enough to deserve.

The real mistake Bernadetta makes, worse than being friends with Yuri at all, is she writes things down. It's okay to spend time in her room writing when her father is ignoring her, when he won't ask to see and punish her for writing silly novels, or decide it doesn't matter what she's writing because writing at all isn't a good wifely pastime and punish her anyway. And Yuri is all she can think about, so she writes about him, the real him and the fictional him and all the lives they could have together in the false worlds where Bernadetta gets to decide what life she wants to have. And it's okay, because her father is pretending she doesn't exist.

Yuri is shouting when Bernadetta wakes in the middle of the night. In the dark she can't tell if there's anything wrong at the gardener's shack, just that there's no fire, but her windows are closed and she shouldn't be able to hear him so clearly. A yelp, and then she can hear her father yelling, too, and when she peeks out into the hallway she sees him holding Yuri by the hair and pummeling his pretty face. Even over Yuri's crying and protesting and her father's profanity she can hear a crack that doesn't sound right, even in the dark she can see there's something very wrong with both his nose and jaw, and she;s so scared of her father but she screams, and once she starts she can't stop.

Count Varley drops Yuri and Yuri scrambles away, disappears around the corner and hopefully down the stairs and out the door and far, far away from here; her father is angrier than she's ever seen him and he keeps screaming at her to shut up but she can't. Her throat hurts and her eyes burn with tears and she knows she's just making him angrier but she can't stop screaming until the back of his hand cracks across her cheek. He smacks her again and she falls, because sometimes he's less violent when she's small and scared, but she braces herself because only sometimes. Bernadetta's father doesn't hit her again, though, just clenches his fist and glances towards the place in the hall where there's probably blood staining the carpet from Yuri's face.

"I'll never find you a husband if you insist on whoring around with the help," he says, low and cold. "And Goddess help you if I can't find you a husband."

-

Bernadetta thought she might have had her weakness for a pretty face beaten out of her, but the first time Felix smiles at her she can't breathe for a moment because her heart jumps into her throat and gets stuck there. It's almost a blessing he doesn't smile often, because as pretty as it is it makes a cold panic rise in Bernadetta's chest and her cheeks sting with phantom pain. But her father isn't here to see her blush or how often Felix finds his way into her stories, and the more Bernadetta sees him smile the more she wants to see it. And he's a noble, anyway, so it's probably okay.

"So, I love the cranky guy with the cool sword," Sylvain says, "but I don't buy Ursula needing a rescue. She's gotten out of worse than this."

"She could get out on her own," Bernadetta says. "She doesn't _have_ to."

"Okay," Sylvain says. "Can I make a suggestion?"

"Is it 'burn this chapter because it's terrible, and then all your other chapters because I've finally figured out they're terrible, too, and you're terrible, and no one should ever be subjected to your awful, terrible words'?"

"Nah," Sylvain says, and one of the things Bernadetta likes most about him, one of the reasons he's allowed into the sanctum of her room and her words, is she could feel how fast and high her voice was getting by the end of that thought but Sylvain doesn't call any attention to it, just pretends it was a totally reasonable guess she happened to get wrong. It's nice she's met so many people who want to help her; it's nice, too, to have someone who pretends she doesn't need it. "Just talk to Felix. He likes when people are straightforward, and I don't think you'll be disappointed. He talks about you sometimes, you know."

"I - Felix - Sylvain!" Bernadetta cries, and buries her face in her hands. This is the _problem_ with using her writing to deal with her feelings, someone always sees and then they _know_. First her father with Yuri, now Sylvain with Felix, when will she _learn_?

"Bernie," he says, high and taunting, but he laughs that soft, gentle laugh of his afterwards so she knows he isn't really making fun, at least not too much. "I'm trying to help."

"Help with writing!"

"I am!" Sylvain laughs again, and when Bernadetta peeks out over her fingers she sees how warmly he's smiling, how mean he _isn't_ being. "This is clunky, the whole thing just screeches to a halt when he shows up. Keep your feelings for Felix in the real world, the story will be a lot better."

Bernadetta sighs; he isn't wrong, really. She'd liked where things were going before she decided her life would be easier if she could just get her little crush out of her head and onto the page. Having a crush isn't - Bernadetta is doing so well here, she's leaving her room and talking to people and even making friends sometimes, but every new thing she isn't supposed to be doing is hard, and scary, and she doesn't have the specific bad memories associated with them she does with that little flutter she gets in her stomach when Felix smiles. At least she knows now Yuri didn't _die_ because of that little flutter, but she still can't quite get rid of the memory of his bloody, beaten face. 

_Your father isn't here, Bernie_ , she reminds herself, _and Felix isn't a kid_.

"I - okay," she says, and lowers her hands. "You - he talks about me?"

"Sometimes," Sylvain says. "He doesn't talk much about anything, but yeah. I wouldn't set you up for failure, you know that, right?"

"I guess," she says.

"You wanna practice?" he asks, and his smile goes from soft and warm to his usual cocky grin in an instant. "I wouldn't do this for just anyone, but for _you_ I'll pretend to be him. Grr, swords, I hate cake, last month Bernadetta put an arrow directly into some guy's eye socket and I want to marry her."

Sylvain laughs all the way to the door, and while she slams the door in his face, and probably all the way back to his room. Bernadetta _did_ \- it was gross, but he was going after Linhardt and she knew if he got there it'd be bad, and next thing she knew her arrow was where his eye should be, and Sylvain wasn't on that mission so he'd only know if...huh.

-

Felix is easy, which Bernadetta wasn't really expecting from the way Sylvain talks about him sometimes. He doesn't like to talk unless it's _about_ something, and it's nice to just be quiet with him. If Bernadetta wants to give him a gift, she has to make sure she hints about it so he expects it and has something for her in return even if that something is just a dinner invitation. He likes to train and he doesn't mind her watching but he prefers if she joins him, and she hardly ever wins but the way his face lights up when she gets the advantage has her working twice as hard in class as she ever has. When he isn't in the mood to be around her, he just tells her instead of getting mean and making her figure it out, and when she isn't in the mood to be around people he nods and waits until she seeks him out. Felix is particular, but he makes sense if you pay attention, and Bernadetta likes him so much _not_ paying attention would be impossible.

It's cold during the Ethereal Moon, like it always is, but colder than Bernadetta is used to and even though Felix is from Faerghus and doesn't mind the cold he seems pretty happy to spend his time with her in her room under piles of blankets. Hanneman nominated him for the White Heron Cup and he's the kind of grumpy about it that usually means he doesn't want anyone around but for some reason that doesn't include her this time. He goes to dance training for an hour after lectures most days because he might hate it but he's Felix so he has to win either way, and he gives her his dessert when they have dinner together, and he walks her back to her room and they do homework together. Bernadetta knits him a hat and makes sure to measure his head so he knows it's coming; on her birthday he pushes his warm hands up under her shirt to rest on her sides and all she can think about is how much more of her there is to touch.

Dorothea wins the Cup and while everyone else dances at the ball Bernadetta takes Felix back to her room. He's the first person she's ever seen naked so she doesn't have a lot to compare it to but she likes the lean lines of his body and the way he tilts his chin up, defiant, like he's daring her to criticize. They're clumsy, and awkward, and Bernadetta laughs and Felix doesn't but when they're cuddled up together under her blankets he smiles.

"I don't think I know how to be happy," he says, "but this is good. I like this."

When everything falls apart, when Edelgard makes her move, Bernadetta stands on one side of the wall, and Felix stands on the other, and she doesn't know a lot about relationships but she knows that can't be anything but the end. 

-

"Bern?"

It takes every ounce of energy Bernadetta has to sit up when she hears Dorothea outside her tent; between the long battle and the hurried march to safety after the javelins of light and the crying, she's absolutely exhausted. But she manages to sit up, and then to stand, and then to walk the few steps to the front of her tent to undo the flap and peek out.

"I just wanted to check on you," Dorothea says, and although Bernadetta's mind is so foggy with grief it feels like she's trying to do things from a hundred miles underwater she manages to bend down and roll up her nightshirt to expose the hastily-healed gash on her thigh. Linhardt patched her up as soon as it happened but it was while he was hurrying past her to go help Dorothea at the front so it's the kind of messy heal that's going to scar, and sometimes when Dorothea can't sleep she wanders around looking for anything anyone might let her heal.

Dorothea puts her hand over it and Bernadetta shivers from the chill of healing magic and the weird itch of her skin knitting back together; she's been so distracted she hadn't even really noticed that it still hurt until it's gone. 

"Thank you," she says, and is about to turn to head back to bed when Dorothea pulls her into a crushing hug.

"Oh, Bern," she says, and squeezes. "That's not what I meant! Felix, you poor thing."

Bernadetta starts crying again almost before she's registered what Dorothea's talking about, but at least it feels a little better sobbing into Dorothea's chest than into her own pillow. In Dorothea's strong embrace Bernadetta doesn't exactly feel better, but the hopeless exhaustion tugging at the corners of her brain doesn't seem so inescapable anymore. Dorothea lets her cry, crooning soft nonsense that refuses to turn into words but helps anyway, until Bernadetta's just sniffling quietly and her tears slow to a stop.

"Honey, I can't leave Sylvain alone tonight, but I'd feel better if you had someone with you. Will you come sleep in our tent? Or let me get someone here to stay the night with you?"

Bernadetta almost refuses as a reflex, so used to protecting her precious alone time, but something stops the _no_ on the tip of her tongue. She's not the kind of can't-be-alone-tonight Sylvain is - she saw him earlier with a bottle in each hand, both suspiciously light like he'd already mostly drained them - but she's _lonely_ in a way she doesn't usually get and maybe it would be nice. She's being silly, she knows, to take this so hard, but Felix was special and he made Bernadetta feel special and even if she hasn't thought about him much in years the world feels wrong tonight for not having him in it. 

"Only if it's not too much trouble," she says, which is a little pointless because for certain people Dorothea doesn't think _any_ trouble is too much and somehow Bernadetta is one of those people. 

"Of course," Dorothea says, and gives Bernadetta one more hug before she leaves.

The quiet and the emptiness of the tent without her is a little too much, even for someone who craves quiet, empty spaces. It's been - it's selfish, but the war hasn't really been so bad for Bernadetta. If Edelgard hadn't taken power and started this whole thing, her father wouldn't have been put under house arrest, and once she graduated he would have continued ruling her life with fear. She's learned how strong she can be, and it's hard to be afraid when the evidence keeps piling up behind her of how easily she can hurt people who want to hurt her. She's not afraid of the outdoors, or of crowds, or talking to people or trying new things, or even really of being in actual danger. 

But Felix liked her before any of that was true, and now Felix is gone. She wonders if he ever figured out how to be happy, but she's not sure whether a yes or a no would be worse. 

Hubert pokes his head in before she starts crying again, though it's more like his head and most of his torso because ever since she pinned that flower to his cloak he tries to make sure she can see it whenever he's around. 

"Dorothea sent me," he says, and oh, Bernadetta hadn't thought about how late it was, and who's usually awake at this hour; Hubert was probably working, and now he's been disrupted. 

"I - she didn't have to - you didn't - I'm sorry."

"It's no trouble," Hubert says, and steps all the way into the tent, smiling the soft little smile she used to think was creepy before she knew any better. "I volunteered."

"Oh," Bernadetta says. "Then thank you."

"You don't usually have such trouble with death," he says, and Bernadetta sighs.

"This is a little horrible of me," she says, "but it isn't usually so personal."

Hubert laughs. "Remember who you're talking to, Bernadetta. There are many who would call you horrible, but I'm certainly not one of them."

"No," she says, "I guess not."

Hubert steps forward, and for a wild moment Bernadetta thinks he's about to offer her a hug. He doesn't, just stands right at the boundary of her personal space, close enough she can almost feel what little body heat he has. She glances at the flower, bold against his cloak even in the darkness of the tent, and back up at his - kind, she thinks, _kind_ is the word - smile.

"I'm sorry this one troubles you so," he says. "I don't like to see you so - would it help to know it was quick? I understand pain well, and I can assure you Ferdinand struck true and there was likely very little."

"That's - " Bernadetta doesn't know if it helps or not. She files it away, at least, because she thinks it might help Sylvain if nothing else. She doesn't feel better for hearing it, but she doesn't feel worse. "Thank you."

Hubert nods, just a quick, sharp jerk of his head, and then just stands there, casting his eyes around the tent as if there's anything very interesting to look at. Aside from her armor piled on the ground because in her grief and exhaustion she decided one night of neglecting it wouldn't hurt and her favorite bow and lance kept within reach of her cot rather than with the rest of the weapons for maintenance it looks like every other tent here. Hubert's just avoiding looking at her, as he has been more and more recently. Though, of course, she only noticed because before that she was beginning to notice how often he looked her way when he didn't think she could see. Maybe Felix - maybe there wasn't only one person in the world who thought she might be worth his time.

"Is there anything else you need? Dorothea said she just wanted someone to sit with you, but I don't think I'm a very calming presence and I'd feel more useful if - "

Bernadetta has to go up on her toes, and even then she can't quite reach, but Hubert makes it easy and leans down to meet her partway. Whatever objections he has, however seriously he takes his reasons for not doing this before, he is eager for her, and his lips part on a soft sigh when they meet hers.

"It will never be what you want," Hubert says; it might be wishful thinking but Bernadetta thinks he sounds almost regretful, like he'd change it if he could.

"Maybe not," Bernadetta says. "But right now I just don't want to be alone."

"Well," Hubert says, and he closes the distance between them, so close Bernadetta can feel the heat of his body, so close if she closed her eyes she'd still know exactly where he was standing. "I can help you with that, I suppose."

Bernadetta smiles, and leans in to kiss him again, to twist her hands in his cloak and pull him towards her cot, and he follows with no more argument. 

-

Hubert's hands are cracked and scarred and Bernadetta finds herself staring at them the way she once stared at the pretty smiles of boys with sharp cheekbones and pretty long hair. Sometimes he catches her looking and stands up, tidies the pile of papers he was working on, and strides off towards her tent. Sometimes he continues working, either oblivious or just not in the mood. Sometimes he's asleep, and she's admiring the evidence of his power and dedication marked on his fingers. He doesn't like to be looked at, self-conscious about how he looks or, she thinks sometimes, about having a body to look at in the first place, so she keeps her staring limited to his hands. He's proud of the work they do, at least.

The war marches on, though not for much longer. Sylvain goes back to Garreg Mach to help from a distance; Dimitri falls, and gentle Dedue who was always so nice to garden with. Hubert, so good at appearing cold and dispassionate, burns so brightly after a battle or when they're on the cusp of something Bernadetta barely recognizes him. It's exhilarating to be swept up in, and leaves her so exhausted it's hard to be sad. He is greedy in his sleep, wrapping his arms and legs around her and holding her so tightly it makes her want to cry, that anyone wants her so close, is so afraid of her leaving, and she aches for the way he smiles at her when no one else is around.

And when it's over, when the Immaculate One joins so many of their former classmates in death, Bernadetta sleeps on Hubert's shoulder in the wagon back to Enbarr and brings her bags up to his quarters without much discussion. He works as hard as ever, harder perhaps, and Bernadetta has plenty of time to herself to work on projects in his spacious rooms or wander the palace grounds. Her father is dead; her mother took up residence in apartments in Enbarr during those five long years before Byleth returned and Bernadetta has tea with her once a week. When Hubert does eventually retire for the night she eases his demons with her body, and he does the same for her, and he still clutches her in his sleep like he worries someone might take her from him.

It's all Bernadetta needs for a very long time - Hubert cares deeply for her, and she for him, and the last time she fell in love it ended almost as badly as it possibly could. She doesn't need to love him, and she doesn't need to decide what to do with her life, and that's enough until it isn't. 

"I never made you any promises," Hubert says, his shoulders up, his jaw tense. "I warned you - "

"I know," Bernadetta says. "I'm just ready now to need something else, and I'm not going to ask you to pretend to be that for me."

"If I could love anyone like that, it would be you," he says; Bernadetta smiles and squeezes his hand. 

"It would be Edelgard," she says. "I like that you've always been honest with me, Hubert, please don't stop now."

"I'd _want_ it to be you," he says, and even if that's only true because Edelgard and Ferdinand are clearly headed for engagement all that matters is it _is_ true. Bernadetta kisses his cheek and he finally returns her smile, though his is thin and tired. There's a part of her, just a little one, that learned its lesson sitting bound to a chair all those years ago and thinks the best thing she could do with her life is to offer him her love and comfort asking nothing in return, but Hubert would hate that even more than she would. 

Bernadetta spends one more night in the crushing embrace of his long limbs, and kisses him goodbye in the morning before she sets out for Varley. 

-

The county requires very little managing, while Edelgard and Hubert and Ferdinand are still working out exactly what it means to dismantle the nobility and nothing's really changing, so mostly Bernadetta just does what she wants. She keeps the household staff because she doesn't want to stop paying them, and sometimes it's nice to have other people around, so she cleans up when she's feeling that kind of restless and cooks for herself when she wants to and otherwise the house quietly keeps itself in order. Sometimes Bernadetta sleeps until the sun is shamefully high in the sky and spends most of the day lounging around in bed, reading or knitting or embroidering, and sometimes she sets out early to take herself on a picnic at the end of a long ride. Sometimes she wakes in the middle of the night with an idea that won't let her go until she puts it on paper, and she scribbles until noon and spends the rest of the day napping. 

It's been a long time since Bernadetta has been alone, longer since she's chosen it as the best of all possible options and not the only way. Since Yuri, since she saw how terrifying her father's rage could truly be, she's been alone because being alone is the least scary thing. But she could be just as happy in Enbarr with all her friends, with some of Hubert's time if not his devotion, attending meetings and parties and helping make the world a better place with her brain instead of her bow, and she still chose this. Not forever, probably, but for now the quiet is the right kind of happiness for her.

The gardens look especially beautiful at night; Bernadetta's put in a lot of work to make sure of that. Varieties of night-blooming flowers are mixed among their less nocturnal counterparts so the closed buds are barely noticeable during the day but when they open at night they seem to glow against the backdrop. Bernadetta isn't much for writing poetry but there's probably something poetic about the girl who only came alive at night at Garreg Mach after everyone else went to sleep making sure every single bed in her garden has flowers that do the same. Bernadetta frowns at her painting and looks between it and the flowerbed, holds her brush up against the death trumpets she's currently painting to confirm the color's all wrong. She mixed paint the shade of pink she knows the flowers to be but the lantern light is so yellow she needs a peach. She turns to her palette to remix, and when she looks up again there's a man on the garden path.

"It's just me," he says, holding his hands up, palms out, to show her he's unarmed. It's not a bad impulse, with the war still in such recent memory Bernadetta sleeps with her lance within reach. She only has a dagger out here with her, though, and since she's no good in close quarters it's mostly for show. She reaches for her supplies but only to pick up the graphite and quickly sketch Jeritza into the painting; in the low light he looks a little fuzzy, ethereal, and more than that he balances the composition nicely.

"What brings you to my garden in the middle of the night?"

Jeritza looks up, as if his answer is going to come from the sky, and then at her, or at least in her direction. He always looks a little lost in thought, never like he's paying attention to whatever his eyes are pointed at; it made him easy to talk to, back when Bernadetta still needed people to make that easy for her.

"The war is over," he says, and Bernadetta blinks in surprise. Hubert had asked her help in fighting his - well, not _his_ , but he was working so tirelessly on planning for it during their time together - shadow war on occasion, and she was happy to lend her bow, but it's been so long since she received one of his requests she assumed the fighting had stalled. "I couldn't think of anywhere else I wanted to go."

"Not home?"

"I do long to see Mercedes," he says. "But she is busy with the orphanage and I don't wish to intrude."

Bernadetta looks at her painting and tilts her head, considering. Jeritza doesn't provide quite the balance she needs, so she quickly sketches in another rough figure beside him, looking up at him as if she's only for the first time truly seeing, then sets down her pencil.

"It's nice to see you," she says, and reaches for his hand. 

-

Jeritza is quiet, except when they spar and his shouts ring across the grounds louder than the clash of lances. He laughs more than she expects, a low chuckle she sometimes has to lean in close to hear. He lives with her for over a year before she gets fed up and kisses him, only to find that when it comes to the physical kind of love he's clumsy, awkward, almost shy; he hides in his room for days when she calls him cute, and she's reminded so painfully of Felix's furious refusal of most compliments at school she has the first nightmare she's had in months. Bernadetta's cries rouse him from his sulk, and he charges into her bedroom with his scythe in hand, ready to fight off her attackers. She laughs, shaky and a little hysterical to see him in his bedhead and pajamas so ready to fight, and this time he lets her kiss away his pout.

Their life together is blessedly quiet. Bernadetta waits for Jeritza to get bored, but the occasional ride out to drive off bandits seems to suit him well enough. He wears the black armor less and less often, and stops entirely after they receive a politely-worded letter from Hubert suggesting rumors of the Death Knight continuing to prowl the streets is making it difficult to convince people Edelgard is done with war. The armor retires to a mannequin in their bedroom, at once ominous and comforting, a sentinel who stands guard over their sleep and reminds them what this life they now have cost. It is often a hanger for the day's discarded clothes or half-finished knitting projects, and Bernadetta is pleased when she visits Hubert once to find he has hung her sketch of the fearsome figure wearing her clothes on the wall near his desk. 

The longer Jeritza goes without the armor, the more he introduces himself as Emile, until the only time anyone uses the former is when Bernadetta puts on her poorly-fitting Garreg Mach uniform and adds the title "Professor". When they eventually marry, in a quiet ceremony in Bernadetta's beloved garden, he takes her last name and together they put Jeritza von Hrym to rest for good. Yuri pulls her into a dance as the sun dips below the horizon; Bernadetta looks over his shoulder at the gardener's shack, soon to be torn down so they can fence the house and garden in and donate the rest of the land, and wonders what her younger self would think if told Bernadetta would share a slow, sweet dance with Yuri in the perfumed evening air and then turn away to embrace her husband.

"I think she'd like to hear she gets to be happy," Yuri says, and spins her until she's dizzy, then lets her go so she stumbles across the makeshift dance floor and lands safely in Jeritza's arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Felix dies offscreen during the war; Jeritza/Bernadetta is endgame (Yuri/Bernadetta is unrequited, Felix/Bernadetta break up due to the war before his death, Hubert/Bernadetta break up amicably). 
> 
> Please come have Bernadetta & FE3H feelings with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/funnwhimsy)!


End file.
